


Captain's Responsibility

by madridistagoblue



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bromance, Explicit Language, Gen, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 17:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2237259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madridistagoblue/pseuds/madridistagoblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Real Madrid 2 - Real Sociedad 4<br/>Sergio Ramos is upset with the scoreline -- and Iker Casillas is upset with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain's Responsibility

This was no time for sweet talk. That much was clear as Carlo Ancelotti stepped out of the room, taking deep breaths and trying to wipe the sweat from his reddened brow before he reached the press conference. Even the generally docile manager had but a few kind words for the locker room. So why would Sergio Ramos feel anything but disgust towards the way his teammates had played? 

"JODER!" the centerback yelled loud enough that Gareth, standing inches away from him as they undressed, slinked back with an expression that could have been mistaken for Messi confronting an angry Pepe. 

"I’ve got something to say to you all!" Sergio barked, as a dozen limped bodies snapped to attention. "I know Carlos said a lot to us already, but I want  _each_ of you to feel  _personally_ responsible for  _every one_ of those four goals!” He exhaled loudly and then headed towards his own locker, feeling every ache in his arms as he slowly pulled his shirt up over his head. 

"I can’t believe them," Sergio quipped snidely -- though quietly -- as he stuffed his jersey into a locker, now sure that he was one of only two men not yet in the showers. 

"Them?" asked the strong voice beside him, with an unfamiliar hint of bitterness. "You mean us,  _subcapitán._ ”

"No, I mean them, Iker," Sergio sighed angrily, turning to the captain beside him, trying to keep his enraged tone to a mere whisper. "I know they care about Madrid too, I was a transfer myself, but they haven’t been here as long. And I don’t think some of them even understand what playing for this crest  _means_. They didn’t play alongside Raúl…Guti…walk the halls of the Bernabéu with Di Stéfano…” 

"And  _you_ , Sergio?  _YOU_ didn’t make any mistakes out there today, just because you’ve played for Real Madrid for so many years?” 

"Well, we all make mistakes, but…" Sergio admitted quickly, clearly ready to continue his rant. 

“ _Joder, coño!”_ Iker yelled before he could say another word. Sergio thought he could hear the already silent dressing room become even quieter, though how it was possible he was unsure. “You were right in front of me on that set play, right by the goal,” Iker continued, his voice returning to a harsh whisper. “One stop there could have changed the entire course of the match!” 

"Fine!" Sergio taunted back, giving the captain a slight shove on the arm. "Blame me for the entire defeat then!" 

"I am not blaming you," Iker rationed, his face red but his voice terrifyingly calm. "I am asking that you take responsibility for your own mistakes instead of pitting the rest of this team against you. I am asking _you_ , Sergio, to act  _like a captain!_  Like a true Madridista!  _Joder_!” 

Iker pulled his own shirt over his head, threw it at Ramos’ chest, and began to walk towards the exit of the locker room, not even bothering with the showers or collecting any of his things. 

"Iker!" Sergio called after him, but the captain refused to turn around. With an angry growl to himself, Sergio sprinted to catch his friend before he could leave. "Fine, I’m sorry!"

Iker turned around.

"I’m angry," Sergio added, "just like everyone else. Just like you. Can you blame me for being upset?" 

"Yes," Iker replied, looking Sergio straight in the eye. "And I blame myself as well. I shouldn’t have stormed off. You may have grown, but I am still your captain, and as your captain I will tell you the truth." 

"Ok fine," Sergio conceded. "But then the others aren’t allowed to be angry either."   
  
"Oh, I want them to be angry," Iker said. "I want it to fuel them. I want it to make them better for the next match." 

"Oh, so it is just me?" Sergio spat at the man he normally treated with utmost respect. 

"Yes," Iker continued, though his voice was strangely soft. "I hold you to a higher standard. Because  _I believe in you_. You, Sergio, you are becoming the leader of Madrid, and I need to make sure that  _you_ understand what it means to have the title of  _capitán_. And first and foremost that means responsibility. Responsibility so overbearing that at times I wish I could leave the armband, give it back to Raúl where it belongs. But it’s mine now. And it will be yours. I need you to understand…” Iker paused, as his voice started to break down. His eyes were becoming swollen, and, perhaps against his better judgment, Sergio wrapped his arms around his captain. It was instinctive. Fortunately, Iker didn’t seem to mind. 

"I trust you, Sergio. You have white blood in your veins, you are the crest, you are the reason for  _La Decima_ …” the captain let out a labored sob, and buried his head in Sergio’s arm. “And I can’t let the man who just a few months ago kissed  _Cibeles_ stop taking responsibility for himself and start tearing this locker room apart.” 

"I’m sorry," Sergio said, repeating it as a lullaby as he cradled the older man in his arms "I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" 

"Forgive me?" Sergio asked finally after a moment of silence, stretching out his arms to look Iker in the eye. The captain, whose tears had mostly dried, nodded. 

"Always," he breathed softy. 

“ _Mi capitán_ ,” Sergio responded tenderly, kissing Iker gently on the cheek, before heading back to his locker, his head held higher. 

 


End file.
